


Phone Booth in Vegas

by Bottledempathy



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, F/M, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 07:33:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10432422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bottledempathy/pseuds/Bottledempathy
Summary: So I heard the song Jessie by Joshua Kadison. I was like awww what a sad song. And then I was like ah, what the heck this would make a nice Stony AU.  Well, a nice AU. Total AU.Just me playing around. Rated mature for the subject matter. Please heed the warnings and if you are easily traumatized this may not be the best story. Not really a happy ending.





	

**  
He sat down on the front stoop and looked out into the yard. The flowers needed to be weeded, and the mailbox sat at a crooked angle. The wood beneath his feet was faded and covered in chipped blue paint. He knew he needed to sand the porch, but it was just another project to add to the list. The old Victorian had cost a pretty penny, but she was worth every dime. Something was finally his. 

He stood and slowly made his way into the grass squishing it in between his toes. He grinned. Kids could be heard calling from a distance. There was a car alarm a few streets down, but other than that just peace and quiet. God, he loved small town life. 

“Only you could be excited about buying a crap house,” Bucky said from the behind the screen door. 

Steve squished his toes again. He was almost giddy. 

Bucky stepped out onto the porch and wiped the sweat from his brow by pulling up the bottom of his t-shirt. He yanked a cap from his back pocket and tugged it down over his head. “I’m gonna head home. Tash asked me to pick her up some vanilla ice cream on the way.”

He walked forward and clapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder. He squeezed. 

“It’s good to see you smile, Punk.” 

He lifted his hand and hopped the white picket fence surrounding the house.  
“I’ll be back bright and early. Wanna get started varnishing that kitchen.”  
He reached a hand through the window of his pick up and tugged the door open.  
“You’re just hiding from your pregnant wife,” Steve said with a chuckle. The sun was fading fast, and there was a slight chill in the air. He breathed deeply inhaling the scent of flowers and spring. 

Bucky stopped before he got in the truck. He paused and looked back at Steve. His hair was damp from sweat, but he looked happy and relaxed. 

“Hey…I uh…I found a box of his stuff. I just put it out back in the trash.”

Steve’s smile faded and red crept up his neck. Bucky waved a hand as if swiping the thought out of the air. 

“Anyway, this is gonna be great. Having you back in town with us,” he said, smiling again. “Baseball game tomorrow, ok? Tash said she’s bringing that dutch baby crap you like.”

Steve’s eyebrows went up, and his smile returned threefold. “Is she? She doesn’t have to do that!”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Yes, she does. She likes you better.”

Steve laughed and gave a knowing grin. “Everyone likes me better. I am better.” 

Bucky made retching noises and continued even after the truck had started. He honked as he drove around the corner and out of sight. 

He watched him go around the corner until stomach rumbled and he decided to attack the rest of that rotisserie chicken they had bought for lunch. He took the stairs in one leap and went inside and headed for the kitchen. He passed boxes and boxes that he’d pulled out of storage, and old furniture he had collected from good will. He hummed as he entered the kitchen. It was all white, chipped yellow laminate counter, white ceramic tile. A window sat over the sink overlooking the three maples in the back yard. The sink was white and scrubbed clean with a new chrome faucet that Bucky had installed that morning. 

He warmed up chicken and potatoes in the old microwave he’d found at a garage sale. Nat had refused to come near it swearing that her baby would be radioactive if she stayed. Bucky had offered to work on it, but she had intervened again. She wanted Bucky alive for the baby’s arrival. 

The microwave beeped and he grabbed his plate, dropping the edge as it burned his fingers. He swore under his breath and grabbed it to head for the living and a Supernatural marathon. He flopped down on the couch, flipping on Netflix. 

He didn’t have to be sad. His life was finally coming back on track.  
**  
It was 3 am when the phone rings. Steve jolted up and squinted his eyes as the cell phone lit up with an unknown number. He reached out and slapped a hand down on it, and rolled back across the bed once he had it in hand. He squinted again. Yeah, he doesn’t know the number. Moses, the fluffy grey monster he called a cat, chose that moment to leap onto the bed using his stomach as a landing pad. He grunted and pushed him off to the side. He was only wearing plaid flannel pajama bottoms, and his arms were quickly hidden under the covers. The cold sent a chill down his spine. 

He slid a thumb across the green button. 

’’Lo?” he scratched out. The blankets were still warm and wrapped around him like a cocoon. He could feel the edge of sleep as it slowed to fog his mind. He couldn’t help but snuggle back into the pillows. 

The furnace left something to be desired. It was on the maybe next year we can replace that back burner. It was early spring, but still very much cold in the evenings. 

There’s a lot of noise in the background, people yelling, music blaring. There’s a muffled voice talking to someone else, but clearly not focused on the call the person has made. 

“Hello?” Steve says more forcefully. He rubbed a hand across his brow and closed his eyes. He was too tired to hang up. Tomorrow he would turn it off before bed. 

“Ok. Ok. Shhh…I’m on the phone.”

Steve’s stomach dropped and he closed his eyes. His throat swelled, and he felt like the wind has been knocked out of him. Why now? Why today?

God, how did he always know when to call?

“Stevie. It’s me,” Tony said and laughed. “Hang on. I’m gonna go outside.” Steve can hear Tony making excuses, shouted laughs and Tony’s easy chuckle muffled by the noise. The muffled sound of city traffic could be heard through the phone. “I am gonna head for my hotel room. I can’t hear.”

“Tony.” His chest is already clenched, his throat choked by tears he refuses to allow. He should never have answered. Bucky had begged him not to answer unknown callers. He was so stupid. It felt like he had been gutted. Two years. Two fucking years since he’d heard from him.

“You won’t believe what happened!” Tony said. He can hear the light of match and Tony inhales with a slow drag. He can picture him so clearly. One hand stuffed into the left pocket of his faded jeans, black boots, old t-shirt, hair a little longer than it should be and a cigarette tucked into his hand. 

Steve said nothing, just closed his eyes. His stomach was churning. Jesus, why didn’t he just hang up?

“Stevie?”

Steve rubbed a hand across his eyes, the tears he hadn’t acknowledged rolled down his cheek. He coughed, trying to cover up the his cracked voice. Jesus, his cracked heart. 

“Yeah, I’m here.” He reached out a hand to stroke Moses and to ground himself. He was fine. It was just a phone call. He could handle a phone call. 

“I’m visiting some friends Vegas. I ran into an old buddy of mine from school. He wants to buy Destiny’s Landing. Five grand for the piece I made when I was 16!,” he says with another drag and his voice turns warm. “I was so excited and I just…well, you were the only person I wanted to know.” 

Steve sits up, kicking back the covers. The cold air hit him and he felt some of the sluggishness fade from his mind. 

“That’s great. I’m…really happy for you.” He planted his feet on the cold wooden floor and reached out a hand for the sweatshirt draped across the bottom of the bed. He held onto the phone as he slipped his arms into the sleeves. 

Somehow it made him feel defended. Stupid. God, he was so stupid. 

“Listen…I know we didn’t leave things like we should have,” Tony said softly. He took another drag. He pushed out a breath, and there was silence for a moment. Steve could hear him take a deep drag. 

“God. It’s just so good to hear your voice, Stevie,” he said, and his voice broke on his name. 

Steve didn’t reply but curled an arm around his own waist. It had been such a good day. Warm and bright. Laughs with Bucky. Perfect.  
He took a deep shuddering breath. He leaned forward and caved in on himself. 

“You ok?” Tony asks. He could always read Steve, even in a phone call. 

“M’ fine,” he replies, and dragged a sleeve across his nose. Jesus. He sniffed. 

“I’ve been thinking. My buddy has a trailer in southern California. It’s right on the beach, out in the middle of nowhere. Like you like,” he said with a chuckle. “No people. Just water and quiet.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve asked, and rose to look out the window. It was dark and the street was only lit by streetlights. The only thing stirring was the neighbor’s cat chasing something in the azalea bushes. It darted in and out. Steve leaned his forehead against the cool glass. His breath fogged against the glass. 

“He’d give us a deal. I’ve known him forever. We could be there by next Tuesday.” 

“You think?” Steve asked and closed his eyes. Tony. Dark hair and early morning smiles. Waking up to find him next to him, but always touching him in some way. Fingers curled around his arm or pressed into the middle of his back. Before the Vicodin. Before the snorting pills, stealing from Steve’s wallet, the lies and the unknown numbers calling all hours of the night. Before the fights. Before everything went to hell. 

“Grab Moses. Get in the car, swing by Vegas. Pick me up. I’ll pay for everything this time. I’m tired of this, baby. I don’t want to fight anymore. I just want us,” Tony said.

Steve squeezed his eyes shut. “The pills?” He had to ask. He couldn’t not ask. God. How could he do this to himself? He knew where this would end up. 

There’s a pause. 

“The pills. I’ve been clean for three weeks. As soon as my advance for the art comes I can take care of you. You’d have to cover like three, four months top.” Steve can hear Tony mumble off to the side to someone and there’s a laugh. 

Tony hushes them. “Almost to my room. Hotel staff always wants to chat.” 

“How’s Mose?” Tony asks, his voice warm. Steve hears the beep of the electronic key and there is just silence on the other end. A TV switched on and he knew Tony was back in his room. He could picture him. The room a huge mess, clothes everywhere. A do not disturb sign on the door. He hated housekeeping going through his stuff. 

“He’s good. Getting old,” Steve adds and looked back at the long haired cat that snoozed on the bed. He had originally been Tony’s, but Steve had been scared to leave him alone with the artist. 

“He’s gonna love the beach. We can let him out. Does the beach have mice?” Tony asked a smile in his voice. 

Steve couldn’t help but laugh. “I doubt it. Maybe he can catch a star fish?”

“Ew. Don’t those things turn their stomach inside out? Moses gets nothing but quality.” He heard him shuffling around the hotel room. He could hear coffee begin to percolate. Tony’s blood was at least thirty percent caffeine. 

“Nothing but the best,” Steve added out of habit. That had been the first thing Tony said when he’d brought the scruffy kitten home. Nothing but the best for our baby.  
He dropped back on the bed. “Tony. I…just bought a place. It’s not really a great time.” 

He heard Tony light another cigarette and take a long drag. 

“Me. You. Miles of ocean. You could paint. All day. I would never let you want for anything. I just…I wake up every day. Alone. It’s not working anymore.,” he said, his voice sounded gruff. “I can’t take care of myself. I can’t do this alone.”

Steve lays down on his back. The bed is cold now having lost his body heat. “I just…I don’t think this is a great idea.” He smells his fabric softener, but somehow he can’t escape the smell of tobacco and cologne. Tony’s signature smell. 

Tony cuts him off. “I know what you will say. But I am telling you. I haven’t had a hit in three weeks. This time is different. I can feel it in the air, ya know? I’ve talked to a shrink. Worked some of my shit out.” 

He took another deep drag from his cigarette. 

Tears formed in his eyes again and he couldn’t help the sniffle that follows. He hates himself for wanting to believe. “We can make this work,” Tony says earnestly. “Just get in the car.” 

“God. Stevie. I’m begging. Please.”

Steve sniffles looking up at the ceiling. He hasn’t painted that yet. He was waiting for his next check. He’d picked up a few extra hours. Been there long enough the boss was willing to give him a chance. 

“15 hours if you just stop for gas,” Tony said. He sounds so warm. So very Tony. An ache that had diminished but never disappeared grew in his gut again. 

“Tony…” he says, and his eyes land on the leather suitcase Tony had given him for a birthday. It sat at the bottom of his closet untouched. The last tag left on it was used on a cheap trip they had taken to the Bahamas. 

“Baby, I love you. I’m done with all of it. I’m like a monk,” he says. He can see the smirk on his face. “And I want my damn cat.”

Steve laughs and hiccups a little. This was insane. He couldn’t do this. 

They’d been down this path so many times. Steve the stable one, Tony his antithesis. The last breakup had been so bad. His savings had been slowly drained and when Bucky finally came to get him he was living in his SUV. 

“Jesus, Steve. Please. I swear to god. I’ll do anything,” Tony said and his voice cracked. “If you come home I’ll change anything. Anything you want.”

There were a few more minutes of silence. Steve couldn’t take his eyes off the suitcase. It’s leather edges were worn, and one of the zippers had broken years ago. It had been used and abused over the years. He chose to ignore the parallel to his own life. 

“Can you give me an address?” he found himself saying, and scrambled for a pen and paper. He felt deliriously happy and incredibly ill at the same time. His stomach almost revolted and he coughed to hide it. 

Tony was quiet for a moment. He could hear him taking deep and even breaths. “15 hours. Just drive fast.”

Steve scribbled down an address. “Me and Mose. We miss you so bad,” he said, writing with some random red pen he found on the nightstand behind him as Tony gave him the hotel. 

“You’re coming?” Tony asked, sounding hesitant. 

He looked back at Moses. Moses moved across the bed and bumped his head into Steve’s hip. “You want to see Daddy?” he said, and the tears flowed freely. He needed to go. He needed to know. 

**  
Bucky arrived the next morning at 6 am. He drank coffee from a thermal Nat had packed and a breakfast she had sent along for Steve.

The house looked quiet and he’s surprised. Steve is usually up by now, coming back from a run.

The front door is unlocked, and he lets himself in. There is only silence and the light ray of the morning sun to greet him.

Then he sees it. Taped to the TV. A note. He moves forward and snatches it down. 

_Buck,  
Thanks for the help the last few months. You and Nat can move in to the house. Plenty of room for you guys and the baby! I know you’ve been wanting to move out of the apartment. Keys are on the hook in the back._

Bucky slumped down on the couch. He felt bile rise in his throat but continued to read. 

_I know you hate it, so I won’t tell you where I’m going. You already know where. Just try not to hate me too much, ok? I love him. Moses and I will be fine. Take care of Nat and baby. Sorry I won’t be there when she gets here. Let her know Uncle Steve loves her and hopes someday once her daddy forgives him to come and see her._  
Anyway, love you, Buck. Be good. Steve 

Bucky sighed and looked around the house. He’ll make a guest room.

He'll pick Steve up in a few months.


End file.
